


Keep Quiet

by epeolatry



Series: Revolutions in My Mind (Revolutions in Your Bed) [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Breathplay, Come Marking, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre has a delicate discussion with Enjolras about the nature of his relationship with Grantaire...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Quiet

Combeferre did it early in the morning, when he knew Courfeyrac and Marius would still be sleeping but Enjolras would be awake. Key to this strategy was also the fact that although Enjolras would be _awake_ he would not be entirely _alert_ until his first cup of coffee, which Combeferre intended to withhold until he had said his piece.

 

“Enjolras.”

 

“’Ferre, you’re up early.”

 

“I need to speak with you.”

 

“Oh yes?”

 

“You and Grantaire. You know I fully support your relationship and we all think it’s fantastic that you’ve found someone you feel so strongly about, and _Grantaire_ in particular. But you…” he trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose above his glasses as he always did when stressed or exasperated, as he had been doing since they were teenagers together at boarding school, and Enjolras knew by that movement that whatever was about to be said was distasteful for his best friend.

 

“But we..?” he prompted cautiously.

 

“You can be very loud. And I am aware that we have all been loud at some point, myself included much to my embarrassment, but you and Grantaire… When you’re alone there are some, uh, _unusual_ noises that we’ve all noticed… And later, the marks are quite obvious considering how pale Grantaire’s skin is, even with the tattoos obscuring some of them… Joly is getting quite concerned…”

 

Enjolras’ mouth quirked tiredly as he thought of Grantaire still asleep in his bed even now, naked and with perfect bruises around his wrists and the imprint of Enjolras’ hand glowing redly on his ass. He understood.

 

“You’re concerned about the nature of our relationship?”

 

“Frankly, yes.”

 

“Then I’ll be frank with you; Grantaire enjoys it when I take control sexually, a control which does sometimes extend to hurting him. In short, we engage in BDSM. But it is entirely consensual, and I would never risk actually injuring him, I care too much about him for that.”

 

“I never imagined it would be anything but consensual,” confirmed Combeferre, “And you? Do you enjoy being hurt?”

 

“No. Grantaire never raises a hand to me. If he wanted to I would let him I think, but again only in a fully consensual sexual context, not in our day-to-day lives. Everything between us is pre-negotiated and there are lines we never cross. You don’t need to worry. And tell Joly not to either; Grantaire had been hurting himself in far worse ways before, but now he knows that only I have that privilege.”

 

Combeferre nodded sagely, his inner doubts about the emotional safety of their relationship still roiling in his gut, but he trusted Enjolras to know what he was doing.

 

“I’m sorry to have pried, it’s just… We were all concerned.”

 

“Thanks,” smiled Enjolras, “It wasn’t something that I would have brought up voluntarily, but it feels good to talk about it with you. I don’t like keeping secrets from you, ‘Ferre.”

 

“Nor I you. But incidentally… would you and Grantaire mind trying to keep the noise level to a minimum? The, uh, what I imagine are _spankings_ in particular. It’s only, Marius really is becoming quite neurotic some evenings…”

 

Enjolras blushed faintly at the thought of Marius overhearing Grantaire’s filthy groans of the night before, “Of course. Sorry. I’ll make sure he isn’t so loud in future.”

 

Then it was Combeferre’s turn to blush as an unbidden image of exactly how Enjolras might keep Grantaire quiet rushed into his head.

 

They stood awkwardly for a moment, both blushing and imagining almost the same scenarios, until they were saved by Courfeyrac strutting naked into the kitchen and asking, “Have you told him yet ‘Ferre? We want you to buy Grantaire a ball gag so we don’t have to listen to you fucking him every other night.”

 

* * *

 

“’Aire?” Enjolras walked into his dark bedroom later that day with a cup of tea for his boyfriend.

 

“Hmm?” mumbled Grantaire sleepily, his head buried in the pillows and his naked back facing Enjolras, “S’it morning?”

 

“Afternoon actually.”

 

“Huh. Weird.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, you say it’s afternoon but I’ve still got morning wood,” Grantaire turned his head to face Enjolras with a cheeky grin, “You want to help me out with that?”

 

Enjolras tried not to, but he couldn’t help but smile back at Grantaire even as he rolled his eyes, “You didn’t have enough last night?”

 

“Never,” smirked Grantaire, leaning back and noticing the red marks still colouring his bare ass.

 

“Well you’re in luck then,” purred Enjolras lowly, putting the tea down on the bedside table and stalking up the bed toward Grantaire on all fours, “Because that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.”

 

Grantaire hummed happily as Enjolras covered his body with his own, pressing him facedown into the mattress as the denim of the student’s jeans rubbed over his still-sore ass, making his cock twitch where it lay trapped between his stomach and sheets.

 

“Yeah? Dirty talk I hope?”

 

“Serious talk. That’s why I’ve got you pinned down, I want you to listen without interrupting.”

 

“Then you should have handcuffed me again,” smirked Grantaire, before twisting his body powerfully and catching Enjolras off guard, flipping the student suddenly onto his back with Grantaire lying atop him, their chests pressed together.

 

Usually Grantaire was the best sub any dom could ask for, obedient and willing, but sometimes he got cheeky, and goddamn if those little moments of wickedness didn’t make Enjolras even more attracted to him, reassuring him that Grantaire hadn’t really changed at all, was still going to sass him and fight him and argue with him and make him all the better for it.

 

But this wasn’t the time for it. So Enjolras forced his face into a stern frown and growled, “ _Off_.” The simple command was enough for Grantaire to heave himself off Enjolras and sit cross-legged on the bed, looking quizzically at his boyfriend while his hard on stood stiffly between his legs.

 

“We’ve never had penetrative sex,” Enjolras stated firmly, as though it were a question Grantaire had posed.

 

“No, we haven’t,” conceded Grantaire carefully.

 

“Do you want to?”

 

Grantaire made a strangled sort of noise in his throat and said in a shaky voice, “Of course, but… only when- only _if_ you decide you’re ready to. I can wait as long as… as long as you need me to.”

 

“I’m ready,” Enjolras nodded, ignoring another choked-off noise of shock from Grantaire as he continued, “I want to. I’ve wanted it for a while actually, to see you spread out underneath me, to hear you moaning my name while I’m inside you, to see how hard I have to fuck you before you forget how to speak…” suddenly Enjolras blushed at his own presumption, “I mean, if you’re willing to let me top, of course.”

 

Grantaire’s eyes were wide and beginning to glaze over in that familiar way as he spluttered, “ _Let you_ … I would beg for the privilege of being fucked by you! Please Enjolras, I’ve dreamed of you fucking me for so long, please just, _fuck_ , just use me however you like, I want you inside me.”

 

“I want that too,” Enjolras nodded, his mouth going dry as Grantaire’s desperate eyes threatened to undo every thread of his self control, “But I have some conditions; Firstly I want to top, at least the first time. Secondly you need to know that I’ll be ceding some of the control to you as you’re the one who’s done this before, but I’ll still be in charge even though you may have to guide me through some of the more complex moments. And thirdly I refuse to engage in this act unless we’re alone, with time to do it properly. Not _the-guys-are-in-class-so-we-probably-have-an-hour-or-so_ alone, not _Éponine-won’t-be-home-from-work-for-another-forty-minutes_ alone, _properly alone._ I refuse to do this unless I can give it my full and undivided attention, do you understand?”

 

“Yes, completely. Yes to all of the above. Now pass me your phone so I can call a hotel and we can be _alone,_ and you can top the hell out of me and I’ll tell you exactly where to put your dick. Hint: it’s in my ass.”

 

Enjolras smiled indulgently, but when he spoke his voice was firm, “I need to know you’re taking this seriously, ‘Aire.”

 

Grantaire nodded frantically, “I am! I promise I am, I’m just… using humour to diffuse the tension of the situation. Because you wouldn’t believe how tense I am right now. Sexually. The thought of you… ngh.”

 

One look at Grantaire’s extremely interested cock was enough to verify this, and Enjolras asked softly, “Do you need me to take care of you?”

 

“Please,” whispered Grantaire, his eyes slipping away from Enjolras’ in a gesture of submission, “But I- would you let me come? Like, right away? I’m so fucking hard right now it hurts, and not in a good way.”

 

“Whatever my boy wants,” smiled Enjolras indulgently, tilting Grantaire’s chin up to meet him in a sweet kiss that quickly turned dirty, tongues and teeth replacing soft lips and gentle caresses. Enjolras bit harshly down on Grantaire’s lower lip, making the artist groan into his mouth. The student pulled away, whispering huskily, “Is that what you want? You want to get off on me hurting you?”

 

“Yes,” whimpered Grantaire, his eyes unfocused and his voice small.

 

“Mmm, perfect boy. Here,” and Enjolras brushed his fingers over Grantaire’s swollen lower lip. The artist eagerly sucked the long digits into his mouth and swirled his tongue over them, making Enjolras wish he’d shoved something other than his hand into that willing mouth…

 

“Good boy,” soothed Enjolras as Grantaire sucked happily, “Such a brilliant mouth. I’m going to take my hand away in a moment- ” a muffled whine of protest, “ –but I want you to stay quiet. I get so wrapped up in you sometimes, the way you make me feel, the things I can do to you, the way I can reduce your eloquence to whimpers and moans, that I forget everything else… I’ve been very inconsiderate of my friends recently and I mean to make it up to them, but at the same time I can’t neglect your needs, so we’re all going to have to compromise, and for now that means you being quiet as I take you apart. Do you think you can do that for me?”

 

Grantaire hummed in muted acquiesce, the tiniest whimper escaping him as Enjolras withdrew his spit-slicked fingers.

 

“Now, come here. Lie down on your back.”

 

Grantaire shuffled closer to Enjolras and rolled over into the vulnerable position, his hard cock resting heavily on his abdomen as Enjolras straddled his thighs, trapping that artist’s legs together and effortlessly ensuring Grantaire’s stillness.

 

“Good,” purred Enjolras, wrapping his slick hand around the base of Grantaire’s cock and beginning to pump him firmly. It drew a quiet gasp from Grantaire, whose eyes slid immediately closed at the relief of contact.

 

“We’re going to make this quick, understand? You come for me as soon as you can. I have more pressing things to do today and sit around jerking you off.”

 

Grantaire whimpered at the suddenly harsh words, then again when Enjolras swiped a thumb over his leaking cockhead, smearing the collected precome down his shaft to mingle with the saliva already lubricating his intensifying hand movements.

 

“What kind of things?” whispered Grantaire boldly, as Enjolras raised an imperious eyebrow at his temerity.

 

The student slapped his face lightly with his free hand before explaining, “I have library books to return, three essays to proofread, another to draft, a new speech to plan, a week’s worth of reading to catch up on… Not to mention making a delicately worded apology to my housemates about all the noise we’ve – _you’ve_ – been making lately.”

 

“None of that sounds more important than my dick,” smirked Grantaire.

 

Maybe it was exactly the reaction that Grantaire had been hoping to provoke, but Enjolras was unused to his boyfriend’s mouthiness accompanying them into the bedroom. Without thinking, he lunged forward and wrapped his free hand around Grantaire’s throat growling, “What did I tell you about keeping quiet?”

 

Breathplay was something they had discussed before, something they were both interested in trying, but they had never yet put the idea into practice. A moment passed between them; blue eyes locked onto green, the gaze firm but questioning.

 

_Is this okay?_

Grantaire tilted his head back slightly, baring the rest of his throat.

_Yes, go ahead_

 

Enjolras was blessed with the art of rhetoric but sometimes it was a relief to just do away with words and let his body speak. He could do it to an extent with his friends – a head inclined in question to Combeferre, an eyebrow raised in warning to Courfeyrac, a beckoning hand waved at Marius – but with no one moreso than with Grantaire.

 

Maybe it was the sexual nature of their relationship that made communication without words so natural – probably it was – but as Enjolras carefully squeezed his fingers tighter around Grantaire’s yielded throat he revelled in the bright clarity with which he could see and read Grantaire; his eyes, wide and awestruck and full of trust, the pupils blown with arousal as he stared reverently up at Enjolras; the twitch of his cock as Enjolras slid his thumb over the slit, which echoed the throb of his pulse under the student’s other hand, fast and desperate; the hitching breath in his chest growing shallower as body fought with mind, panic fought pleasure, logic fought instinct…

 

Enjolras continued pressing tighter around Grantaire’s throat, his grip on the other boy’s cock following suit. He realised belatedly that he was hard himself, and he was sure he hadn’t been before he’d taken hold of Grantaire’s throat; the thought was potentially worrying but Enjolras pushed it out of his mind in favour of twisting his wrist and drawing a gasp from Grantaire.

 

“You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” he growled quietly, half awed by the knowledge and half scornful of it.

 

Grantaire tried to nod, his face red as his hips struggled to buck up into Enjolras’ fist, the desperate movement halted by the student’s weight on his thighs.

 

“Then come for me,” goaded Enjolras darkly, his erection pressing painfully against his zipper, “Come for me with my hand around your throat, slut. Come for me with your life in my hands.”

 

There was something seriously wrong about that, so exploitative, so repulsively predatory and abusive that Enjolras would feel sick with himself if he wasn’t so mindlessly aroused. With a hiss he let go his hold on Grantaire’s neck while simultaneously speeding up his tugs on the artist’s cock, Grantaire coming hard with the inrush of air into his lungs and a muted cry on his lips.

 

Grantaire doubled over, his abdomen tightening and arching him up off the bed while his legs remained pinned under Enjolras. Each breath was a desperate gasp as he spilt hot and thick across his own stomach, Enjolras’ hand still pumping him firmly until he was spent, falling backwards onto the bed as his eyes fell shut and his chest continued to heave.

 

Enjolras licked his lips and felt his cock twitch heavily at the sight of the marks he had left around Grantaire’s throat; a harsh, red handprint on the white skin which would fade soon enough, probably within minutes, but the little bruised crescents left by his fingernails would remain longer, like a circlet of ownership. He thought he might augment them with his mouth if Grantaire would let him ( _as if he wouldn’t_ ), give his boy a collar of hot purple marks to remember him by for the next few days.

 

Grantaire’s breathing slowly evened out but his eyes remained closed, his face slack in the blissful haze of orgasm and oxygen deprivation. Enjolras smiled down at the artist, gently palming himself through his trousers but making no move to rouse his boyfriend; he knew Grantaire would come round take good care of him soon enough.

 

After a minute Enjolras gently leant down to stroke a curl off Grantaire’s forehead, earning a hoarse whine of contentment. He chuckled as the other boy’s eyes opened blearily.

 

“Shh, I’m right here. How do you feel?”

 

“Amazing,” sighed Grantaire happily, “That was amazing… It was so intense. _You_ were so intense. I loved it, thank you.”

 

His voice sounded rough but he was making no complaint so Enjolras let it go for now, “You’re welcome, I liked it too. In fact…” he looked pointedly down at the straining front of his trousers.

 

Grantaire followed his gaze and smiled widely, “I thought you had more important matters to attend to than jerking off?”

 

“I said I had more important things to do than jerk _you_ off, an activity I have kindly made time for. Now it’s your turn to oblige me.”

 

Apparently Grantaire’s cockiness had not all been choked out of him because he propped himself up on his elbows and smirked as he asked, “And what if _I_ have more important things to do than sit around jerking you off?”

 

The look Enjolras gave him could have cowed a rabid dog, and Grantaire shivered in delight as Enjolras replied, his voice deliberately low and soft, danger sparking from every word.

 

“Do you really think that anything else you might have to do could be more important that serving me?”

 

He stared down at Grantaire imperiously, inwardly glorifying in the way the artist’s smirk slid off his face and his eyes widened in sheer unabashed joy, but he remained outwardly derisive as Grantaire whispered, “ _No_.”

 

“You’re lucky I let you touch my cock at all, you know. Look at you, already covered in your own come and now you want mine too. Is that what you want?”

 

“Yes,” replied Grantaire without hesitation, his face tranquil as they once again dropped into their assigned roles, “Let me serve you. Let me show you how much I liked having your hand around my throat. Please make me choke again, with your cock, I want to feel it, I want to feel you pushing into the back of my throat, claiming me, using me… _Please_.”

 

Enjolras fought back a groan as Grantaire’s words made his dick throb painfully against his zipper, but he remained tight-lipped, smiling thinly down at the other boy and hissing, “ _No_.”

 

“Wh-what?” whimpered Grantaire.

 

“I said no. You beg so beautifully, but no. I’ve allowed you to become too used to getting your own way and it’s made you overconfident. You seem to have forgotten who’s in charge here, who owns you.”

 

“ _You_ ,” broke in Grantaire softly, his eyes dropping submissively away from Enjolras’ gaze, “Always you.”

 

“I’m glad you recall,” nodded Enjolras, “But in order to ensure you don’t forget again I’m going to withhold the privilege of sucking me off.”

 

Grantaire’s face fell into a look of such pathetic disappointment that Enjolras couldn’t help giving a benevolent smile as he continued, “But I’ll let you redeem yourself. You’re going to get me off using just your hands, understand? At least all those hours you waste on jerking off can be put to some good use.”

 

Grantaire seemed buoyed by this concession, and he licked his lips hungrily as Enjolras remained straddling the artist’s thighs while unzipping his own trousers and pulling his cock free with a hiss of relief. It was fully hard and flushed, a dribble of precome smeared over the head; Grantaire couldn’t think of anything in the world he wanted more than to wrap his lips around it and beg Enjolras for redemption without words…

 

“Hands only,” warned Enjolras, unable to miss the blatant hunger in Grantaire’s eyes as the artist’s tongue slid out to wet his eager lips, “And keep quiet.”

 

Grantaire looked up at Enjolras, purposefully holding eye contact as he sucked wetly on each of his own fingers then spat into his palm, well aware that Enjolras too preferred the smooth slide of a wet hand than the hot friction of dry tugging.

 

He slid his hand into a ring at the base of Enjolras’ cock and began slowly working the shaft, intentionally avoiding the leaking head until Enjolras growled lowly at him in frustration. The sound made Grantaire shiver and redouble his efforts, his fist pumping faster, his grip firmer, his fingers gliding slickly over the sensitive slit as Enjolras’ hips began to reciprocate his movements, gentle groans issuing from deep in the student’s chest.

 

Grantaire had much more experience with this than Enjolras did and it showed; he knew just how to twist his wrist at the right moment, how to vary his speed and grip enough to keep Enjolras on edge, how to use his free hand to massage Enjolras’ balls and press tantalisingly against his perineum without interrupting the stroking of his right hand… Enjolras could learn a lot from Grantaire about how to work a cock. He fully intended to make a study of it sometime, but at that moment he was rather distracted.

 

“Fuck, ‘ _Aire_ ,” he gasped as Grantaire ghosted a fingertip between the cleft of his ass, not daring to breach him but the light caress alone enough to make Enjolras’ entire body convulse with the suggestion of it.

 

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” murmured Enjolras down to his positively debauched boyfriend, all wild curls and hooded eyes, “You look amazing – _god!_ – bruises around your neck and come all over you, _fuck_ , it’s perfect… God , ‘Aire, _you’re_ perfect…”

 

Grantaire ducked his head in mute rebuff of the compliment, but continued jerking Enjolras’ cock furiously.

 

“Yes, faster!” gasped Enjolras, thrusting jerkily into Grantaire’s fist as he felt the tug of approaching orgasm.

 

Grantaire obliged gladly, both hands working in tandem to pull Enjolras over the edge while he stared up at the golden boy in open rapture, encouraging him in a rasping, eager voice, “Yes, fuck yes Enj, come on…”

 

When Enjolras came a moment later, with a shudder and a drawn out groan of Grantaire’s name, the artist remained staring slack-jawed and open-eyed up at his boyfriend, even as hot spurts splattered across his hand and chest, covering the mess of his own spendings already drying there. When Enjolras was finished he remained in the attitude of orgasm, his head thrown back in a graceful arch and his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he drew short, sharp breaths. Grantaire was content simply to stare up at his boyfriend, his master, his Apollo, forever; he was dazed and happy, the unmistakable marks of Enjolras’ ownership hot on his skin and obscuring his own visceral claim to himself.

 

“Good boy,” whispered Enjolras, face still pointed to the ceiling, “Such a good boy, thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” smiled Grantaire lazily as Enjolras tipped his head forward to look down at him, the student’s perfect lips widening into an o of surprise at the heady sight of Grantaire debauched and splattered with both of their come.

 

“Shower,” commanded Enjolras, once he had recovered, “Come on,” and he swung himself up and off Grantaire’s lap, grabbing the other boy’s rough hand and pulling him to his feet, “And _keep quiet_.”


End file.
